


Therapy For The Soul

by boileddaikon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Anxiety, BDSM, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Corruption, Cruelty, Depression, Dominance, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Femdom, Gay, Gen, Korean Characters, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seoul, Sexual Abuse, Smut, Suicide Attempt, University, Yaoi, korea - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boileddaikon/pseuds/boileddaikon
Summary: Hajoon is the black sheep of his family and has a hard time concentrating at school. When circumstances start getting increasingly difficult to handle, Hajoon tries going to therapy. After several sessions, however, Hajoon begins to realize that his therapy might be a little… unconventional.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 10





	Therapy For The Soul

**Author's Note:**

> I have spent much time in Seoul the last two years and really want to integrate what I have learned during my time there, with topics ranging from mental health to authority. I am also a big fan of yaoi, BL, and the sorts. I usually only wrote stories on groups like BTS or EXO, but I decided to try something new and start with my own characters! Story will be taking place in Seoul, Korea, with Korean original characters. It's been a while since I've written anything, so I deeply appreciate any comments or critiques!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking care of the neighborhood cats with his friend, Seungho, Hajoon goes to his part time job. When he returns home, he gets into a predicament with the man living in his house… but he’s not all that phased by it. He starts the next day feeding the cats before going to school, where his mom calls and recommends Hajoon to try therapy again.

Hajoon always has a place in his heart for cats. Most of his free time as a child was spent roaming the streets around his neighborhood, shaking packs of cat treats in his hand and watching for any four-legged friends dwelling in the shadows. The passionate hobby has carried on with him until today, nine years later, with Hajoon at the remarkable age of nineteen. When he wakes up during the early hours of dawn, he goes out and prepares breakfast for the community strays. When he comes back home from school or work, there is a plastic bag in his grasp filled with tuna paste and cans of cat food and salmon. He never fails to replenish the various water and food bowls spread across the community. Hajoon probably has a favorable reputation with the felines in a mile radius of his home, thanks to his rapport of consistently supplying the four-legged with more than enough necessities and lovely little trinkets. 

Nowadays, when cats see him, sweet purrs and meows call out to Hajoon, coupled with gentle head-butts and small requests to be petted. People walking by never fail to stare in awe and compassion, especially when Hajoon sits in his usual spot outside with his cat toys. The kittens of the cat community love standing on their hind legs to catch feather wands, and older ones cannot resist the temptation to chase little balls and similar knick-knacks.

This is Hajoon’s main source of content, happiness, and meaning.

“How many cans did you buy today?” Hajoon’s friend, Seungho, asks as he leans against a concrete pillar, staring at the kneeling male before him, “Holy cat-whisperer, Baek Hajoon.” The kneeling male glances up from two tortoiseshell felines feasting away at a can of catfood. His eyes glisten slightly through long, dark bangs and curve in response to a smile, hidden behind a white surgical mask snug across his lower face.

“The usual… just ten. They have their dry food, too.”

“ _ The usual… just ten _ , he says! You spend all of your money on these guys. Imagine how many Switch games I could buy with the money you spend in a month, fuck!” Seungho rolls his eyes, grabbing the white plastic bag sitting next to his feet. It was heavy with cat food. Sometimes Seungho tags along with Hajoon to feed the cats, and sometimes he plays with the little guys. More often than not, though, Seungho is complaining about how Hajoon could be saving his money for more selfish things, like video games or good delivery food. 

“Taking care of the cats is... my hobby… I like taking care of them, Seungho.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Let’s feed the other guys now. A new episode of my favorite anime is coming out in two hours and I don’t want to miss it…”

* * * * *

“Hajoon, you’re free to go after stocking up the frozen food.”

It has been a slow evening shift at the convenience store, most likely because it was a Monday night and there was some rain pouring in the metropolitan area. The summer season was always filled with spontaneous bouts of rain and drizzle. 

Hajoon works part-time at his local convenience store a few times a week, getting just enough pay to feed the cats. He turns his attention to his boss down the aisle who is checking things off of a clipboard.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.”

The male didn’t work much, perhaps 12-15 hours a week at most, broken into several three to four hour shifts. Usually Hajoon worked evening shifts between 6-10P.M., doing tasks such as re-stocking, cleaning, and occasionally checking out customers at the register. His days were mostly spent going to classes in the mornings and spending time with the cats. If not those things, then he was working.

Before leaving the store, Hajoon notices a few bottles of soju on the checkout counter. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “Mr. Kim... Can I take these? Do you need them?”

“Oh, those? Go ahead, they’re expiring soon anyway. Good to know young fellas like you are still capable of having fun these days!” Mr. Kim jokes and sways his hand, signalling Hajoon from afar the go-ahead. The male shuffles his bag onto one shoulder and places the three bottles of soju inside. He says his goodbye to his boss and leaves the store.

The walk home was uncomfortable. It was humid, slightly raining, and the mask over Hajoon’s face was not making things easier. There was sweat forming around his nose and mouth. He hears the clinking of the glass bottles inside his bag with each step he takes. Mr. Kim’s words echo inside Hajoon’s head. 

He doesn’t drink. The alcohol isn’t for him.

After several more minutes of sluggish walking, Hajoon stops in front of a red door. His home was small but comfortable-- a single house, two levels, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Most homes in his neighborhood were compact, especially the single homes. Hajoon lives with his mother, Sumi, who often travels for work and isn’t home as much as he’d like her to be. The male frowns thinking about the other two people he lives with, fumbling with the keys in his pocket to open the door.

Making his way inside the house, Hajoon slips off his shoes and places them neatly beside a row of others. He hears the faint sound of television from down the hall.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees from his side an adult male lying comfortably on the living room couch. Hajoon places his bag on the counter and takes out the bottles of soju, placing them gently upright. The glass rings as the bottoms make contact with the countertop.

“Is that for me?” A deep, husky voice comes from the living room. Hajoon turns in said direction and only responds with silence. The man from the couch sits up, yawns mannerlessly, and walks towards the kitchen with one hand in his boxers, probably scratching his groin. Eventually they stood next to each other, with the man’s height looming over Hajoon’s by several inches. The boy scrunches his nose to the smell of alcohol.  _ He’s already drunk _ .

“Oh, soju,” The man grunts, grabbing one of the bottles and twisting off the cap, “Perfect.”

Hajoon watches in disgust as the man brings the bottle to his lips, chugging the thing down as if it were apple juice. The man’s eyes dart towards the male next to him, causing Hajoon to shift uncomfortably and quickly look away. 

“I’m… I’m going to wash up-”

“Not so fast,” The man burps, slamming the bottle back onto the counter and grabs Hajoon’s arm, “I saw that… Maybe you want some, too?”

“I… I don’t… I’m tired… Just leave me alone tonight. Please.”

The grip on Hajoon’s arm tightens. 

“ _ Leave you alone _ ? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The man responds sarcastically, squinting at the younger one before frowning, “Fuck, it’s like I’m talking to a ghost. Get your fucking hair out of the way and take the fucking mask off!” The man’s voice booms. Hajoon feels a hand run across his face and he shrinks back, shutting his eyes. His head is yanked back by his own hair. The mask breaks by the strands around his ears, slowly falling towards the kitchen floor. Hajoon keeps his eyes closed shut, afraid of the stinging, alcohol-drenched breathing from burning them. 

The man looks down at him, at his bare face no longer covered by a piece of fabric and unkempt hair. 

“Look at me. Look.”

Hajoon lets out a shaky breath. He opens his eyes slowly, seeing clearly the man’s face inches away from his. Dark circles. Anger in the eyes. Furrowed salt and pepper brows, with wrinkles sitting in between. Facial hair growing out in patches from sloppy shaving. And cracked lips, formed into a frown, but Hajoon could still smell the stench of alcohol seeping through the man’s nostrils. He looked aged, dirty, and unstable. It makes Hajoon nauseous. He still manages to somehow maintain composure.

The hand holding his head releases his hair, making them fall onto the sides of his face. Their eyes don’t break contact.

After what felt like eternity, the man lets go of his hold on the male. A sigh of relief escapes Hajoon’s lips. But just as quickly, the man takes another gulp of soju into his mouth, and brings both hands to grip Hajoon from each side of his face. In a split second, Hajoon felt the man’s face pressing against his, with their lips furiously scratching each other. 

“No-”

Hajoon’s attempt to speak was blocked by bitter, astringent liquid flooding into his mouth. There was something else too, slimy and thick and unwelcomed ravaging his teeth and gums. He tries to breathe but the overwhelming stench of alcohol makes him gag. His composure disappears, he starts to panic.

He bites down in nervousness onto the intrusion in his mouth. There’s a low grunt that comes from the opposite’s throat. Hajoon shoves the man back, meanwhile stumbling backwards from the force of his rejection until his lower back hits the cabinets behind him. He’s breathing heavily, with the acetonic liquid dripping down onto his clothes, and feels his heart thumping violently against his chest. It was all a blur, what happens next. There was probably some profanity thrown at him, some yelling, too, but Hajoon didn’t really understand what the man was saying.

His ears were ringing. Maybe his face was throbbing, or numb-- Hajoon wasn’t quite sure what the difference was. There were seconds of seeing black and then seconds of seeing the floor, or the texture of the countertop, or the ceiling of the kitchen. Sounds of broken glass echoed repeatedly through his head, parts of his face were stinging and wet. Sometimes Hajoon was there, sometimes he wasn’t. 

Eventually, in the midst of sudden chaos, all he saw was black.

* * * * *

A blaring, loud beeping startles Hajoon from the darkness. His body jumps as he opens his eyes, only to realize he cannot open them completely. His vision blurs momentarily until he regains the rest of his senses. There’s soreness and pain reverberating from different parts of his body. 

The beeping is still blaring.

He can feel vibrating from the middle of his leg. Hajoon lifts his head to whatever extent he can manage, bearing the throbbing, and lingers his eyes towards his bottom half, where he makes out the image of his pants and underwear pulled down and messily laying at his knees. He stares blankly at the sight for a moment, eventually reaching out his arms to pull them back up to where they should be.

Hajoon’s hands search for his cellphone, removing it from his pants pocket and turning off the alarm. The time is 8:43A.M.

Silence.

He shifts himself, sitting up with his back against the cabinets and his arms at his sides. His clothes are wet and smell of alcohol. Bits and pieces of broken soju glass are scattered all over the kitchen floor. Whatever light that shone through the sole window in the room made it very clear: The kitchen was a mess. 

Hajoon sits and stares vacantly for a little longer, before coming back from wherever his mind took him to and lifts himself up to stand. 

Dizzy. 

His hands grasp onto the counter to stop him from falling. There’s a warm, streaming sensation leaking down his left leg. 

The male spots a broom sitting in the corner of the kitchen and grabs it. He sweeps haphazardly, pushing the pieces of glass into a manageable pile. With a wad of paper towels he snatched from the paper towel roll, Hajoon bends over to pick up the tower of glass. His stomach betrays him that very instant and luckily makes it to the sink before vomiting. 

  
  
  
  


A stranger is staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. It is as if Vincent Van Gogh nailed a painting in front of him, with blotches of blue, green, purple, yellow, and red blobs scattered intentionally on a canvas. Perhaps, this was a botched version of  _ The Starry Night _ that no one had seen before. He thinks about the cats and wonders if, maybe, they could still recognize him when he feeds them. The thought is quickly shooed away when he remembers that his face is covered all the time, anyway. 

Hajoon laughs a little bit but stops when he feels soreness in his throat. His voice is coarse. Leaning closer into the mirror before him, hands on the porcelain sink, he notices a purple ring of prints around his neck. Eyes trailing upwards then reveals a more busted lip (more than before), with blood crusted between the cracks of his lips and the corner of his mouth. Upwards more, and more-- red from his nostrils, both eyes swollen and turning a different color than his typical skin. The green and yellow bits of color on his face were healing reminders, custom made for him.

  
  


_ Enough _ .

  
  


The lad backs away from the sink and leans over into the shower to turn on water. He strips off the alcohol drenched clothes from his body, tossing them into the trash, and strategically avoids looking at the painting in the mirror.

  
  
  
  


There is a reason why Hajoon always wears long-sleeved shirts and pants, even in the dead of summer. He searches his closet for a turtle neck, puts it on and finishes clothing himself. He also learned throughout the years, with the help of his hair, he could cut and style it so that it covers his eyes… whenever the circumstance deems it necessary.

He walks jaggedly back to the kitchen and slings his bag over his shoulder, unzipping it and opening one of the cabinets to stuff a few cans of cat food inside. The stench of alcohol catches his attention, making him remember to take out the trash. Hajoon makes his way to the front door where he slips on his shoes, puts on a cap, and grabs a new mask to put over his face. The new wounds stung when the fabric brushes over them. Bag over his shoulder and trash bag in one hand, he opens the door and leaves it closed behind him.

“Oh, you’re going to school now?” A voice reaches Hajoon. He turns his head in the direction it comes from and sees a young man walking towards him, a few years his senior, dressed in a suit with a briefcase in hand.

“Jinsu,” Hajoon croaked, quieting his voice after hearing it, “I’m… I’m going to feed the cats and then go.” His grip on the trash bag tightens, “H-How was work?”

The male, Jinsu, gives Hajoon a weird look and takes out a pair of keys for the door.

“Are you sick? You sound like a fucking horse,” Jinsu remarks, eyeing the trash bag, “Whatever. Work was fine. Is dad home?”

Hajoon’s throat starts closing up. He gulps and shakes his head, hastily making his way past Jinsu to throw the trash away. Jinsu retorts, “Okay, well, have a good day to you, too,” before entering the house and slamming the door to a close. Hajoon’s steps were hurried-- pained, but quick. He feels himself calming down the farther he got from his home. Soon enough, he realizes where he is and takes out the cat food from his bag. 

Almost as if they were expecting him, several felines meow at Hajoon’s presence and made their way closer to him. He smiles softly under his mask and gives them all a brief petting before opening up the food. The lad does this a few more times in different locations, greeting the families of cats that anticipated his arrival. 

* * * * *

“Goooooood morning, cat whisperer!” Seungho grins from ear to ear, surprising Hajoon from behind with a gentle nudge on the shoulders, “Dude, the new episode last night was fucking amazing! Did you watch it?!” Hajoon sucks in his breath and stiffens his back. Seungho cocks his head to the side, waiting for a response from his friend.

“Hello, Earth to Hajoon? Are you here?” 

“I’m-,” Hajoon speaks quietly, “I have a cold.”

He doesn’t turn to face Seungho. The other male frowns, sitting in the seat next to Hajoon as he places his backpack on the desk, “You were fine yesterday. Did you catch something at work?”

“... I think so…”

“Well that’s pretty fucking impressive, since you’re always guarding your face! You should go to the doctor if it’s bad. Want me to take you after class?”

“No. I… It’s just a small cold. That’s all.”

“You sure, man?”

Before Hajoon can respond, a flurry of students enter the classroom, overpowering the room with scattered voices and small talk, followed by the professor. The two males end their conversation to signal the beginning of class. The whole time, though, Hajoon wasn’t particularly paying attention to the lecture. He was distracted by the soreness of his bottom against the chair, as well as the throbbing in his head. 

Maybe he should have stayed home.

  
  
  
  
  


“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over and play games, but maybe another time would be better,” Seungho yawns, stretching his arms above his head, “I just got the new  _ Super Mario Party _ game delivered yesterday.”

“We can play later… later this week,” Hajoon squeaks, putting his books back into his bag, “I just need to rest right now.”

Seungho stares silently at his friend. 

“You wear a mask and clothes fit for winter, in the  _ summer _ . If you’re still getting sick later, just please go to the doctor. Promise?” The other nods in response. 

“Alright, then, I’m gonna head back home first. Text me if you need anything. You hear me?” Seungho gives Hajoon a gentle pat on the shoulder before leaving the room. He lets out a long sigh, slumping over into his desk while looking over the now empty classroom. All of a sudden, he felt so exhausted.

Hajoon’s phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. Slipping it out with his hand, his heart drops at the caller ID.

  
  
  


“... Hello?” 

_ “Hajoon? Is this Hajoon?” _

“Yes, mom. It’s me. I… I just have a cold.”

_ “What? Again? Are you feeling okay? You’ve been getting sick often these days. Have you been eating well?” _

“Yes… Yes, I’m eating fine.”

_ “You sound terrible. Did you go to the doctor yet?” _

“I’m fine. My throat is just sore.”

_ “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. I’m calling to let you know that I’m coming back home tomorrow evening. There’s another business trip to Incheon the day after, but I can make you some porridge before I leave again.” _

“... I would like that, thank you.”

_ “Oh, and Hajoon?” _

“Yes?”

_ “I… I know you’ve been feeling down recently. My coworker recommended a place for psychiatry and therapy. I can send you the address via text. Can you… Can you try going? Please? At least once. It’s supposed to be a very good place.” _

Hajoon hesitates. There have certainly been times when he’s expressed more negativity than intended, especially towards his mom. He tries his best not to, but evidently, it still shows. Several times, he has tried therapy, counseling, and even going to church. They never really helped with anything, but his mom always encourages him to try. His mom sees through him like glass. He can never really hide how he really feels when she is around. There are things he can hide from her, but not his emotions. Hajoon bites his lip.

_ “... Hello? Hajoon?” _

“... I’ll try going. Thank you for letting me know.”

_ “Oh, thank goodness. Thank you, darling. I’ll text you the place. In the meantime, take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be home by tomorrow evening. I’ll let Kiha and Jinsu know, too.” _

“... I know, mom… See you then.”

  
  
  
  


He ends the call. Another vibration comes through: An address to the place his mom mentioned.

Hajoon reads it over. He puts the phone away, feeling a small pit forming in his gut. He felt so tired; the exhaustion from earlier was growing exponentially. Fortunately, he had no scheduled shifts to work for the day. Hajoon just wanted to rest even if it means going back home. 

The lad throws his bag over his shoulder and wearily leaves the classroom. There’s people shuffling through the halls. 

He takes in a deep breath and lowers his head before walking down the hall, where Hajoon then exits the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Asia, last name comes before first name when addressing people. Seoul has a high population of cats, whether they are runaway domestics or strays or ferals. It is not uncommon for residential folks to leave cat food and water out for the cat population.   
> Additionally, it is very common for people to wear face masks everyday (like the ones mandatory for COVID19 regulations in the USA). Reasons for wearing a face mask are not limited to illness or sickness. Oftentimes it’s for convenience-- to not worry about looking a certain way (ex: not wearing makeup), or to make a fashion statement (ex: to encourage others to focus on one’s outfit instead of face). Other times it’s to hide recovery bruising from cosmetic surgery (which is very common in Korea), to avoid getting others sick, or simply just because masks are such a normal occurrence, similar to wearing underwear underneath clothes.


End file.
